


Sucks Down Under

by Dean_Wax



Category: Original Work
Genre: 2000s, Australia, Australian Slang, Bullying, Comedy, Drama, Gay, Gay Male Character, High School, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Themes, M/M, Period-Typical Racism, Poverty, Queer Themes, School Uniforms, Twilight Bashing, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-08
Updated: 2018-11-08
Packaged: 2019-08-20 15:54:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16558709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dean_Wax/pseuds/Dean_Wax
Summary: “What the fuck?!” This is some Matrix bullshit. How dare he? “How dare you! You hit yourself in the face with that ice block right now, Victor Fuckanov!”He stops and peers at me like he’s still trying to figure out what I said. Aha! Apparently all you need to to trap a Russian supermodel is stun ‘em with a tricky thought. “My name is Victor Stepanov.” He informs me sincerely. “I am not going to do that.”When I sigh, a little part of my soul leaves my body but I summon it back with a groan. He’s just never gonna get it. “You’re useless. Give me that,” I take the Sunnyboy back off him. A quick slurp gets all the melted stuff. No use wasting a perfectly good ninety-five cents.===Life sucks for Axel Anderson, a gay boy culturally stranded in a poxy little outback town surrounded by bogans and neanderthal classmates like Mitchell Linardopolous. To make matters worst, his best friend Sharmaine's just shipped off to ballet school in town (the skinny bitch). Just when things can't get any worse, some Russian weirdo with pointy cheekbones turns up and he's like, OBSESSED. Can the whole world just fuck off? Honestly.





	Sucks Down Under

My name is Axel Anderson and I’m just the happiest boy alive, aye. Being gay in highschool is fuckin’ tops. Mmm, fuck yeah, ‘cause you know there’s nothing sexier than a bunch of seventeen year old guys all dressed in the same fugly lemon shirts and maroon shorts, gangly legs all sticking out like overgrown pipe cleaners and shit. I defs pop a stiffy like every single day. Practically have to stick a cork in my dick when the summer heat wave breaks and every foul fuck either reeks of B.O. or AXE deodorant. Vomming.

   Yeah, so... if you’re a bit slow, I’m a sarcastic cunt and highschool is shithouse. I don’t even have a friend since Sharmaine went and got herself into the ballet school in town, the skinny bitch. At least if my parents weren’t so povo I could go somewhere with ties and blazers and showers in the changing rooms. Our changing rooms have a cupcake with blue icing stuck to the ceiling that’s been there since our last Sports Day and no one wants to touch it because we all want to see how long it will stay up by itself. Just another _thrilling_ day at fuckin’ Cobberranga High.

  
    So here I am, sat at the back of the class at the start of term as per fuckin’ usual, just about as emo as I can be in the summer. I’d wear a hoodie, but I’d get heat stroke. I used to have checkered wristbands but Miss took ‘em off me ‘cos they’re not uniform. At least I’ve got the big, fuck-off emo fringe. It’s not black; it’s midnight brown, alright? It’s classy. These cunts wouldn’t know class if jumped up and bit ‘em on the face - the only one who even comes close is Miss because she wears those pearl earrings and keeps her hair nice.

  
    Oh Jesus, who the fuck is that she’s bringing in? Pale skin. Coiffed mahogany hair. Brand new uniform straight out of the packet. He’s either here on exchange or some posh mob’s dad got done for embezzlement because he is _not_ our kind of ugly.

  
    “Now class, this is Victor. His family have just moved here from overseas so I don’t want you to give him any lip. Victor, say hello.”

  
    “Hello.” His accent is thick and his vowels sound pinched. He might just actually fit in here. Then he fucks it all up by stepping forward giving us a curt bow. Oh, that’s just fucking tragic. You can practically feel everyone in the room lean back, socially. “My name is Victor Stepanov.” Victor Stepa-no-mates, more like. “I am moving here from place in China called Tianjin, but my family is from Russia originally.”

  
    At some point his eyes have locked onto mine while he was talking. Pale green. Not blinking. He’s not blinking. The longer I watch him, the more it annoys me. “ _Blink!_ ” I mouth at him furiously.

  
    He blinks. “... Bad things happen in China, so I am glad to move. I hope to be good student and sure many of us can be good friends.”

  
    Even Miss is discretely sucking air through her teeth. “Right. Thank you, Victor. Now…” She gives a single clap and rubs her hands together as she looks around for a place to stick our new outcast.

  
    “Stick him with Axel, miss, he’s emo too.” A familiar loud-mouth chortles. Mitchell Linardopolous, overgrown gorilla and fukken _bane_ of my existence. He needs a bit of a slap but I don’t want to pop one of his pimples.

  
    “Aw piss off Mitchell!” I snap without realising. Wincing, I grit my teeth and duck my head down between my shoulders as Miss’s glare hits me like a whipcrack.

  
    “ _Axel!_ ” The warning bark is one we all know pretty well, aye. Miss is actually alright, but - she won’t actually dish out rubbish duties or detentions if you snapped because someone else was being a cunt. Provided, of course, that you shut the fuck up once she says your name like that. Looking away, I button my lip and wrinkle my nose as I watch her usher Baron von Fuckface to the empty seat next to mine.

  
    Wooorrr, fuck, he’s creepy. I’ve seen pale cunts holed up in the computer lab but that’s usually like a bit of a Clearasil situation, you know? This cunt looks like he stepped out of a magazine. I don’t like it. I don’t even say ‘hello’ to him and he’s still staring at me with his bushy, angry eyebrows like I’ve killed his mum or something. What the fuck is his problem, hey?

  
    “Um,” I say sharply, leaning away from him as I reach out with my camp hand and pointedly slide my pencil case away to the far corner of the desk.

  
    “Pash him!” Mitchell calls from the front of the class.

  
    Aw, thank you, Mitchell, for that lovely fuckin’ ice breaker. I hope your next gobbie is hell cheesegrater from that snaggletooth skank in year 10. Glaring daggers at him, I can’t help but tuck my chin in and do evil-eyes as Miss calls him out. “ _Mitchell!_ ”

  
    “Aw, I was only joking, Miss!” Yeah, bullshit.

  
    “I don’t want to hear it. Books out, all of you.”

  
    He didn’t stop staring at me for the _entire_ first period. We shifted classrooms for second period and I swear I could feel his eyes burning into the back of my head for the rest of the morning. Come lunchtime, I buy myself a Razz Sunnyboy from the tuck shop to make myself feel better. Sometimes you’ve just gotta treat yourself nice. The red cordial is the closest thing to lipstick I’d ever get in this place without getting my teeth kicked in. Christ, even the grass is dead here. I miss Sharmaine.

  
    “Oi Ax-hole, you practicing for your next gobby?” Of course. Of course it’s Mitchell and his shit mates. The disgust is already ripe upon _mine visage_ when I look over my shoulder to see him squeezing his cock through his shorts.

  
    “Yeah Mitchel,” I drawl, “‘Cos your dick hell looks like this, right?” I waggle the Sunnyboy in front of me. If you’re not familiar with the king of all icy poles, it’s basically a squat little pyramid.

  
    “Er,” Mitchell scowls. I roll my eyes and give him a moment to come up with something. “More like a Calippo,” he grins triumphantly.

  
    Aww, slow clap. Slow clap for Mitchell. Mitchell Linardopoulos, everyone. Fuckin’ derro. It’s time to go offensive. “Aw yeah, you like this, then?” I grin. With red Razz juice all over my mouth, I must look like a fuckin’ maniac as I take a big old chomp out of the the ice. I can practically feel the cringe coil through him, hahahaha. The trick is to maintain eye contact.

  
    “Werrr! Freak!” Mitchell pulls a face. “How can you bite ice like that?!”

  
    Smug, I make a big show of stretching my jaw. “Ah well, I guess I am just a super freak, Mitchell Linardopolous. It’s not my fault you wuss ou-” Hold the phone. Who’s that peeking out from behind the post across the verandah? No. No, it couldn’t be.  
    IS HE SPYING ON ME?! “ _Ugh!_ ” The sound is literally forced out of me with disgust and I storm towards him. Absolutely not. I have had enough of this Victor prick.

  
    “Aw fine, just fuck off, then! Don’t even talk to me!” Mitchell calls after me. He sounds put out. Good! Scoffing, I roll my eyes without looking back. Victor seizes up when he realises I’m coming for him and makes off down the side of the science block. I break into a run after him.

  
    “Oi!” I call out with a scowl. The cheeky cunt actually looks back, sees me, and then walks faster! He could give Kath from Kath ‘n’ Kim a run for her money - I don’t know why he doesn’t just run instead of power-walking like some kind of fff--ugh. No. Fuming, I line up the shot and let the ice block fly. It’s not the first time I’ve sconed someone in the back of the head with a half-eaten Sunnyboy and it won’t be the last, alright? That is, until he turns around and freakin’ _catches_ it _mid-air_. Err! “What the fuck?!” This is some Matrix bullshit. How dare he? “How dare you! You hit yourself in the face with that ice block right now, Victor Fuckanov!”

  
    He stops and peers at me like he’s still trying to figure out what I said. Aha! Apparently all you need to to trap a Russian supermodel is stun ‘em with a tricky thought. “My name is Victor Stepanov.” He informs me sincerely. “I am not going to do that.”

  
    When I sigh, a little part of my soul leaves my body but I summon it back with a groan. He’s just never gonna get it. “You’re useless. Give me that,” I take the Sunnyboy back off him. A quick slurp gets all the melted stuff. No use wasting a perfectly good ninety-five cents. “Were you spying on me?” I demand. It’s a question as well as an accusation.

  
    His nose twitches and he hesitates, taking a step back against the wall. If he tells me his name again I’m going to deck him. “... Yes,” he admits finally.

  
    I knew it! “What the fuck!” I stick out my chin. “Are you some kind of psycho or something?!”

  
    “... No, I do not think so.”

  
    “Well then why are you so fuckin’ weird?” I snap.

  
    “It is… you have… quality.” He hesitates.

  
    I raise an eyebrow with a sneer. “So glad to hear I have at least one fuckin’ quality. Big compliments there,” I say dryly. “Go on, then. Spit it out. Pray tell what is this mystery quality that has you so obsessed with _moi_.”

  
    “It is your blood.”

  
    “You what, cunt?” I nearly drop my Sunnyboy. “I’m sorry. What I meant to say was, ‘you fucking _what_ , cunt?’”

  
    “Please. It is being very complicated…” I can see him trying to backtrack and I grab him by his collar. I’m not hell tank but we’re about the same size and I could take him if I have to.

  
    “Please explain,” I ask, as hostile as possible. Up close like this, I can see his lips part in that soft way that you get when you’re lining up for a pash and a sheen of drool makes his tongue shiny. Eurgh! With a cringe, I push him away again.

  
    “I am not typical highschool boy,” Victor explains reluctantly, running his fingers through his hand. “I am… vampire.”

  
    Bullshit. “Yeah, right. Is that what they call gay serial killers in Russia?” I jeer. Is this a prank or something? I don't think Cobberranga High has even seen a TV camera since A Current Affair did a special on povo kids not eating breakfast. “Are you filming me?!” I look around suspiciously, but there’s nothing but scrub and school fence on this side of the science block. There’s not even good cover for any kids who want to sneak durries.

  
    “It is true,” he urges.

  
    “Ah yeah, it’s true, is it? How come you don’t have fangs and a cape and all that other shit, then?”

  
    The corners of his lips pull down and he shakes his head. “Please do not ask this thing. Is great danger for you to be close when I am in condition to be showing fangs.”

  
    “Well then it _is_ bullshit then, isn’t it? You even can't prove it.” I click my tongue. What a piss-weak lie.

  
    With a grumble, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a miniature packet of wet wipes. So far, it’s the most convincing evidence that he’s not normal. I stare at him as he pulls one out and rubs at a spot on his forearm. The wipe comes away ivory with foundation, like when me and Sharmaine clean up after a night of playing dress-ups. Frowning, I watch as he sticks it out into the sunshine and the glare nearly blinds me.

  
    “Argh! What the fuck!” Pulling a face, I shield my eyes and squint at it. It’s like the cunt’s strapped a mirror to his arm. Once my eyes adjust, I can see that the spot is shimmering.

    “Is part of condition. This is very sunny place and vampire skin is always catching the light in this way. Stage makeup is helping to keep secret.”

  
    It’s hard not to laugh, honestly. “Oi, that’s like actually the gayest thing I’ve ever seen and I’ve literally sucked a penis.”

  
    He raises his eyebrows like _I’m_ the one who’s said something shocking. Fuck! I’ve gotta stop doing that. I’m too used to running my mouth off with Sharmaine. He doesn’t even lob a friendly insult my way and it puts me on edge. “Don’t look at me like that!” I snap. “Do they not have gays in China or Russia or wherever-the-fuck? I thought you ‘vampires’ would be all about sucking.”

  
    “N-no… Is more like… kissing bite, and drinking...“ Breathing in deeply through his nose, his eyes go heavy and he bends down a little and reaches for my hand.

  
    “Piss off, you overgrown mosquito!” I yell and slap his hand away. That seems to shake him back to his senses.

  
    “... S-sorry. I am not normally being like this. Usually is okay to drink blood of livestock or perhaps native wildlife.”

  
    I practically choke. “Are you nuts?! You can’t eat the wildlife! I think that Steve Irwin will like astrally project and come boot you in the head if you even try. Can’t you just rob a people-blood bank like a normal person? Hrm. Well, you know what I mean.” Bad phrasing. Fuck!

  
    “Is more easy to abstain than drinking just small amount from human being. I have already arrange reliable source of sheep blood.”

  
    I can’t believe I’m hearing this. I’m seventeen. My biggest problem should be how to kick my feral little brother off the desktop computer so I can catch Sharmaine on MSN before she goes to bed. Certainly not dealing with immortal stalkers from fuck-knows where. Or when! “How old are you?” I demand suddenly.

  
    “... Old.” His eyes slide away evasively.

  
    “You perve!” I screech. “You’re like a hundred years old or something, sniffing out school boys!”

  
    “I am not doing this thing.” Victor glowers.

  
    “Yeah well, you could have fooled me, fuckface. You basically just-” _BRRRIIIIIIIIING!_ The school bell cuts me off. Typical!

  
    “Please,” Victor grabs my arm. “You cannot be telling others about this condition."

  
    “Don’t touch moi!” I pull back with one of my best haughty looks. “I’ve had _enough,_ Victor Stepanov! I don’t wanna hear it! The bell’s rung and I’m gonna be late ‘cos of you!” I can’t believe I’m saying this but I actually want to get to class on time. If Sharmaine’s going to be jetting around Europe doing ballet shows then I might as well learn a bit of _parlez-vous français_ so I can pose as her fake lover. Fuck knows I’m not going to find a good root in this bogan suburb.

  
    Victor doesn’t take French - the old bastard probably knows enough Ruski and Kantongese to last him a lifetime. Mrs Caple’s got varicose veins but her voice sounds all husky and glamorous when she speaks in another language, so I actually enjoy myself a bit.

  
    Last period is private study but of course we’ve got fuck-all homework on the first day so it’s done in like five minutes and the rest of it is a complete write off. I fill a whole page of my workbook with doodles of stars and I don’t even look up to see if he’s still watching me until the bell rings, and he’s nowhere to be seen. Hrm. Fine, good. Fuck him then.

  
    Still, I can’t help but be a little bit tetchy on my way out. It feels like I have to watch my neck all of a sudden, hey. Plus, Victor’s not the only bloodsucker around here. I just manage to dodge Carly, who thinks she’s hot shit because she’s got tits and she steals the makeup testers from Target but actually she’s an evil troll who is definitely _not_ my next best friend. No one can replace Sharmaine. Shoving my way past some year sevens, I leave the school gates and start my trudge home to be a sad sack until her train gets in from the city.

  
    Aw, and who’s this skulking along behind me? Of fucking course. I round on him the second I spot him. “Oi, Vikka, can you like actually fuck off?”

  
    “It is Victor.”

  
    “Yeah, good luck with that one.” I give him a strange look. Jesus, is he a bit special? It would explain a lot, actually. “Why are you following me home? Don’t you have a sheep to fuck or something?”

  
    “Hrm… no. I was wanting to ask you question.”

  
    I pinch the bridge of my nose. “If this is about my blood again Victor I swear to fuckin’ god I am going to rob a Catholic and stab you with a crucifix.”

  
    “... No.” He frowns. “I am… Earlier today, you were saying that you have… how you say…suck...”

  
    My mouth drops open when it clicks. “Have you been speaking to Mitchell?!” I cut across him angrily.

  
    “No.” His frown deepens. He purses his lips for a moment then swallows. “I am just wondering… what it is like, to have boyfriend.”

  
    Aw. Awww, don’t. Don’t look at me like that with your fukken sad little repressed homo face. No. I don’t want him to have a sob story. No wonder he’s so weird. Nooo. FFfffffffuuuUUUUUAAARRRK! “Jesus fuckin’ Christ, Vikka,” It’s hard to get my usual volume and I look away with a grimace. This is excruciating - ‘awkward’ doesn’t even begin to cut it. I take a deep breath and let out a short sigh.  “Look. I don’t actually have a boyfriend, alright? I got munted at a year 11 party and now everyone knows I’m gay because I’m a loudmouth. It’s not the same thing.”

 

    It’s shit, actually. This is all such bullshit. I should never have drunk that goon.

  
    “But… you have still…”

  
    Of all the disturbing shit I have seen today, the vampire miming a wristy really takes the cake. “Yes,” I reply crisply.

  
    “What is it like?”

  
    “Oh my god,” I complain loudly. “I am not going to share sex stories with you on the way home from school, Victor Closet-knob.”

  
    “I am sorry.” I get the feeling like he’d be blushing if he could. Must be all the makeup or, you know, the lack of a pulse. With a heavy sigh, I shove my hands in my pockets and start off walking again.

  
    “Come on, then,” I call after him. “Hurry up.”

  
    “You do not hate me?” He asks, half confusion and half hope.

  
    “Don’t get too excited,” I inform him snidely. “You’re buying me a soft serve from Maccas on the way. If you’re lucky, I’ll show you how to give a wristy on one of the thickshake straws.”

  
    “I do not understand these things you just said.”

  
    “Jesus Christ, Vikka.” I shake my head.

  
    “I am… Vikka?”

  
    Finally. “Good work, blood-boy. Next step: blinking. Lots and lots of blinking.”

 

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> I know this was structured like an introductory chapter but it was a fun writing exercise to hang shit on the vampire lore of Twilight. Will I continue it? Mmmm, probably not, hey.


End file.
